


blame me for the sorry state you're in

by mountaindews



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: "i don't always write filth but when i do it's badong", Finger Sucking, M/M, control play, i blame my accounting class for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 15:57:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8291695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mountaindews/pseuds/mountaindews
Summary: The dusty light bathing his face does hardly any justice to his beauty. Even with a tear-streamed face, flushed cheeks, at the edge of humiliation, every inch of Makoto is perfect. Izumi’s fingers greedily map his thighs, the plains of his stomach, like the remains of a saint.
( just an inch of badwrong, i think? )





	

« Izumi-san, Izumi-san » the cries twist and break at the ends, desperate, pleading « big brother… »  
The dusty light bathing his face does hardly any justice to his beauty. Even with a tear-streamed face, flushed cheeks, at the edge of humiliation, every inch of Makoto is perfect. Izumi’s fingers greedily map his thighs, the plains of his stomach, like the remains of a saint.  
« Ssh, ssh, Yuu-kun » he kisses just below his navel, moves the waistband of his grey boxers, just to let it snap back to place on the pale skin, hitting it, leaving it reddened, « your big brother is here. »

_Disgusting._ Disgusting how he’s corrupted him, taking advantage of his control over him. Disgusting how Makoto kissed him, and he didn’t even think about pulling back. A keen.  _Big brother._

Makoto is so beautiful when he closes his eyes.  
« Big brother… I-I can’t… »  
Izumi presses a finger to his lips, humbling.  
« Ssh, Yuu-kun, keep your voice down » he traces that full, perfect curve; his fingertip lingers for less than a second before dipping itself between the soft lips, follows his teeth, his tongue, pushing his cries back down his throat « you don’t want someone to hear us, do you? »  
Makoto whimpers, displeased, with a choked sound. He sucks obediently on the fingers that slip past his lips, tentatively, swirling his tongue between them, hollowing his cheeks. The saliva dripping down his chin is pure perfection.

« Good boy » Izumi pets his head with his free hand, forcing more of his fingers inside, coaxing his mouth open, letting more spit drip down; it’s a disgusting sight, and yet, he presses his thighs together, as his pants are becoming more and more oppressively tight « you’re such a good boy, Yuu-kun. »

He’s the most perfect mess humankind could ever be bestow ed the grace to have  had between them . Izumi’s thoughts disappear with that warm, pink tongue, lapping at his fingers and trying to hold them in, like a good boy.  His thighs shake and Izumi lets his hand fall, snaking down his body again, never to have enough of his skin.  
_Beautiful. Beautiful, and mine._

He’s quick to pull down the last layer of already soaked fabric between him and his dick, pressing a finger to the flushed tip, feeling his keen muffled around him; it’s too much,  _too much._ The thin strand of saliva  connecting his fingers to his tongue as he pulls them away is  _too much,_ and so is the look in his eyes. Innocent, pure. Completely unaware.

« Izumi-san » he speaks again, in a voice that doesn’t taste like tears anymore, « blue. »  
Izumi blinks, hand stopping on his bare lower back, before his lips curl up in a pout, and he lets the act fall.

« Did I do something wrong? » his tone’s softer as well, free from the possessive, acid shade it had; Makoto’s head hits the wall, forcing himself to smile despite the mess of tears and spit on his face and chin, and his red, kiss-bruised and slightly chapped lips are surely a sweet sight when they’re stretched like this.

« No, it’s just » he breathes in deep, letting the dust of the storage room set in his lungs; the breathlessness helps him think, if just for a second « I don’t want you to go all the way when… when it’s like this. »

« You have the control » Izumi caresses his cheek, and Makoto lets him, cracking one eyelid open (when did he even close them?) « you decide when to stop. It’s okay, Yuu-kun. »  
His gaze rattles around uncomfortably, on the piles of paperwork with the first pages faded, on their clothes tossed between shelves. He wonders how in the world they’ve agreed on doing this at school, in the first place.

« And besides » Makoto’s voice caresses his ears again, but hardly anything innocent could be found in it now – he has no time to register in as he’s p ushed down to the floor, his hands  pinned above his head « you promised I’d be the one in control,  _next time._ »  
He’s all but pressing his hips, his lower body, on Izumi’s still clothed, aching erection. The open shirt’s slipping from his left shoulder, and in the swirl of the dust in the rays of the sun, he looks like a mirage. A broken, perfect mirage. Izumi swallows.

Makoto’s fingers press down on his throat, where his Adam’s apple bobs, making him feel the oppression as he breathes. Their way up to his mouth is soft, a feather-light touch, but there’s no gentleness as they push their way inside, forcefully, hard.  
He’s been tricked –  
_… and he really doesn’t mind._

«  So how about you let me show what I’ve learned from you…  _big brother?~_ »

**Author's Note:**

> don't talk to me


End file.
